Changes
by Luv2Game
Summary: Attending Caduceus' annual Halloween party wasn't exactly something Victor liked to do, but, for reasons unknown, he always ended up at the hospital. Always. It never changed, the party nor Victor. Ever. Except for tonight. Change could be a tricky thing.


_**A/n: **_Hey, Trauma Center board. It been a while, and I've been missin' ya. So here I am. And I don't have a Derek/Angie piece. What has the world come to? I actually have a Victor-centric sorta thing. I wanted to do a little something with a Halloween type of theme, and for some reason Victor became the star.

Don't ask. But, yeah, there's a _tiny, tiny, microscopic_ D/A hint. That's nice, right? I do hope this random Victor piece bodes well. :smilesmilewinkwink:

_**Disclaimer:**_ _Trauma Center_ still isn't mine. I have a feeling it never will be...

**Chapter 1: Changes**

_**x x x x **_

Sometimes Victor wondered why he associated with these people. Sure, they were his colleagues. Yes, he was forced to see them for at _least _a few seconds most everyday, but still- why did he subject himself to them? He shouldn't be here, not today. He should have just listened to that little voice that had screamed at him to stay home and avoid Caduceus. He was sure his floors could use a sweeping and his furniture some dusting. Even housework would top being here.

Here, at Caduceus annual Halloween party, an event that lasted from eight o'clock in the evening to a time that only God knew. Everybody always looked forward to it; the party was full of costumes and free food and drinks. Music and dancing. A time of relaxation and conversation, of laughs and good times. The end of October was something the employees of the prestigious medical firm had circled on their calenders.

Except for Victor. His calender was littered with dead-lines, chemical combinations, and reminders to leave the laboratory at least every other day to grab something to eat. He didn't have time for silly little parties that celebrated giving away candy to snot-nosed brats and hacking up perfectly good vegetables with a dulled butter knife. Victor Niguel was an important scientist with important duties, and he didn't have time to drop his work load and brush elbows with his fellow employees.

Or so he had tried to convince himself. He had tried to remind himself of the mundane routine the party always took. How it always started off with a declaration to have fun and forget their worries for one night, followed by loud music and dancing. How after people had thrust their way to heart failure, they would crowd around the buffet table, scarf down ghost-shaped cookies and bat-designed sandwiches, wash it down with blood-colored punch and ice-cubed eyes, and then repeat. It never changed.

But Victor always showed up. No matter what horror stories he tried to create. And he always wore a costume. He tried to chalk his attendance up to boredom, but that theory never stuck- if he thought the party was boring, why not just be bored at home? He couldn't even blame it on Derek and the others, even though their excited jabbering and questions of, "So, what are you going to be? You're coming, right? You are going to dress up, aren't you?" were always enough to make him agree to appear, solely to shut them up. When honest with himself, he knew what drove him to attend the party: Pure and simple want. He just wanted to fit in with them all, to allow himself some time away from the lab and a chance to truly enjoy himself for an evening.

Though, now that he was here, he wondered _why_ he felt that way. His test tubes and beakers didn't force him to make idle, meaningless conversation. His chemicals didn't transform from simple, well-dressed nurses into scantily clad, gyrating women. And his microscope didn't ask him, "Dude, you're 007, right?" when he was clearly Alexander Fleming.

Sighing, Victor reclined against the wall, watching his colleagues twist about and laugh in wigs and blow-up suits. Yeah, that vacuum cleaner was really starting to look appealing.

"Hey, man, what are you doing over here in a corner?"

Watching as a blond man approached him, Victor shrugged, flicking a strand of black hair off of his forehead. "Just watching the show." He didn't consider conversation with Tyler Chase useless chatter. It wasn't exactly thought-provoking, but he didn't really mind it.

Tyler laughed. "I love this party. Have you checked out the front desk girl? She's dressed like a stripper!"

Victor snorted. She probably had communicable diseases, too. She had thought he was dressed as the Pope, mistaking the lab coat thrown over his suit as a clergy robe. He'd had to force himself not to burst into laughter and only been able to nod his head.

"The sights one can see."

"Yeah," Tyler agreed, a pleased smirk on his face as he surveyed the dance floor. Using the lapse in conversation to study Chase' costume, Victor's dark eyes narrowed, realizing that the surgeon had on the very same thing he wore to work everyday.

"What are you supposed to be? I thought the point of this party was to dress up and act like a five-year-old, not wear our uniforms."

Tyler smiled. "Wait, let me add the finishing touch." Reaching into his pocket, he snapped on a fake grey beard, pulling the string around his head. Throwing his arms in the air, he struck a pose. "Ta da!"

Victor could only stare. "Why is there now a dead, fuzzy animal attached to your face?"

"I'm a senior surgeon, man! Get it? Senior? As in, I'm old and rolling in the dough? Totally different from my natural young and beautiful, rather poor, self."

"... You're an idiot."

"I'm original. And what are you? A secret agent under cover as a lab rat? The last part if pretty fitting, but the first bit's a stretch."

Victor rolled his eyes. "I'm Alexander Flemming. You know, the man who invented penicillin and has saved you from many a sickness?"

Chase laughed. "Ah, I get it. The dashing tuxedo and wire-rimmed spectacles threw me off."

Fingers dipping into the pocket of his white overcoat, Victor pulled out a bottle of the antibiotic, clearly visible from inside his jacket. "I'm carrying the stuff around to help people along. It's not working out too well."

Still laughing, Tyler clapped the dark-haired man on the shoulder, turning away from him and heading out into the crowd. "Well, maybe it'll get better. And while you work on your dilemma, I'm going to go and dance with the stripper."

"I don't think penicillin will be able to help you."

The blond just shook his head, waving away the comment with a broad smile. Victor watched as he disappeared into the crowd, blurring in with the dancing mob. Left alone, the lab technician fought off another sigh and the accompanying thought to head to his small house. It was barely nine o'clock, and already he was tempted to slip out of the double glass doors.

Though nothing at home was waiting for him, save for a dirty floor and a bed that hadn't been made for over a week. And he was feeling a bit thirsty. Sliding along the wall, avoiding the mass of people in the center of the floor, Victor made his was over to the tables stretched along the other side of the room. Orange cloths peppered with pumpkins and skeletons were littered with crumbs and splashes of punch. Doing his best reach for a cup without getting his sleeves in the mess, Victor again had a fleeting thought to return home.

His house may be a bit untidy, but it certainly didn't look like _this_.

He was able to fill up the black plastic cup without staining his jacket, but Victor's feat nearly unraveled when Derek Stiles appeared, calling out a friendly greeting as he approached the buffet table.

"Hey, Victor, having fun yet?"

Tightening his grip on the cup, Victor brought it to his lips, nodding his head silently and hoping his near-spill had gone unnoticed. Despite the startle he had caused, Victor was rather glad to have the doctor's company. He'd worked with Derek on multiple occasions, and each time had been a tolerable experience. He respected the man, both his skill and his easy-going, sociable personality.

"Pretty nice gig, huh?"

Again, Victor nodded. Motioning towards Derek's black cape, he said, "Nice costume. The punch seems pretty fitting for you."

"Thanks. Vampires and 'blood' are pretty synonymous. What kind of Dracula would I be I passed up a drink?" Derek poured himself a cup of the red brew, not paying much mind to the crumbs as he reached for a second plastic container. "Since Angie's a witch, a guess she'll be okay with a cup, too."

Victor's gaze slid past the doctor and towards the dance floor, watching as Angie waved to him, pointed hat and long black skirt swaying with the motion. Offering her a small tick with his fingers, he turned his attention back to Derek. "Somehow the words 'Angie' and 'witch' just don't mesh."

Derek laughed. "Yeah, I know." Glancing at Victor's apparel, the surgeon added, "Sir Fleming, right? I don't think 'blood' fits in too well with that name, either."

Victor's brow shot up, though he tried to mask his surprise. "You're the first person that didn't think I was James Bond or the Pope." His reputation as a genius surgeon seemed to be a just title.

"Even with the penicillin in your pocket?"

The dark-haired man fought back a smirk. He knew his like for Derek wasn't misplaced. "Goes to show you what type of people we work with."

"Well, Tyler's dancing with our receptionist. Who's dressed like a stripper."

Victor took a drink of punch, hiding his grin. "Scary."

Picking up each cup, Derek glanced towards Angie, offering the researcher a parting nod and another laugh before turning away. "Isn't it? I'll talk with ya later, Vic."

Drinks in hand, the surgeon weaved his way over to his nurse, leaving Victor standing at the buffet table, half-empty cup in hand. Downing his punch in a couple of gulps, Victor crumpled up the plastic cup, tossing it in the trash can under the table and folding his arms. Surveying the crowd, a frown tugged at his mouth. He had talked to the few people he even considered friends and indulged in a drink. There wasn't much else to do. He had made his annual appearance, the next logical step was to return home.

He really did need to do a little cleaning, and if the new medicine waiting for him in the lab was any indication, his only chance to do it was tonight. The basement of Caduceus would probably be seeing a lot of him in the the upcoming days; the expansive, high-tech laboratory constantly serving as his home away from home.

Still, he hadn't had a cookie yet. One sugary, icing covered treat and he would leave. Just like always.

Reaching for a chocolate chip shaped bat, long fingers careful to mind the black icing, Victor pulled it towards the edge of the platter. He was seconds away from claiming it as his own when another hand reach for it, small digits quickly retreating when realization set in.

"Oh, sorry, Victor. I only saw a cookie, nothing else." Pulling away, Leslie Sears smiled, adjusting the garland-wrapped halo resting on her head. "I'm starved."

Watching the nurse grab up a orange sugar cookie carved as a pumpkin, Victor said nothing, only nodded. He'd spoken to Leslie before, usually in the company of Tyler. She was friendly, and he couldn't help thinking that her outfit of an angel was comically appropriate- patients, especially children, seemed to love her, and she always had a smile and a laugh to share. Speaking to her without Chase, however, was a new element for Victor, and he wasn't fond of elements located outside of the periodic table.

"Party's great, huh?" Finished with her treat, Leslie reach for another.

Obviously, she wasn't uncomfortable with him. Lifting a shoulder, Victor replied, "Sure."

Undeterred by his simple answer, the nurse grinned. "Same as always, right?"

Nearly snorting at the irony, Victor took a bite of his bat, once again nodding his head.

"I guess that's okay. Knowing what to expect is comforting."

Indeed it was. He liked having things planned and mapped out. His field required that he know what was happening and what was going to happen, to have results already known. Any changes were to be documented and studied, so that being unawares wouldn't happen again. Calculation and understanding was everything.

Nibbling on his cookie, Victor glanced away. "Sometimes change can be nice."

Finishing her second cookie, Leslie agreed. "Yep. Like it's great to see you out of the lab." Poking his shoulder, she smiled, amber eyes bright. "It's not so bad being among the living."

Shrugging, he begrudged, "Not entirely."

Hand traveling towards a skull-shaped platter, Leslie picked up a finger sandwich. "So, who are you dressed as?"

Lips twitching, Victor popped the rest of his treat into his mouth. Yes, change could be nice, but some things never seemed to. It was about time for him to leave this party and go home.

Brushing his hands on his white lab coat, he offered a one-worded explanation, eyes turning towards the exit as he said, "Fleming." Leslie pointed to his pocket, drawing his attention away from the doors as she quickly finished her food.

"Oh, I get it! Penicillin! Doctor Alexander Fleming. That's cool, Victor." Smoothing out her white gown, she laughed. "Makes my costume look silly."

Staring at the nurse in front of him, Victor paused, eyes traveling between the angel and street lamps outside. "...I think it fitting."

Grinning, she threaded her fingers together. "Thanks."

Silence settling between them, the researcher tugged at his neck tie, the situation once again an unfamiliar one. Though easily remedied. He still needed to return home. He'd had enough change for one evening, and he could do without any more until the next Halloween party. Skirting around Leslie, he mumbled, "See you at work tomorrow," and headed for the glass refuge.

"Wait."

He didn't get very far. Leslie was standing in front of him again in under two steps. She offered him another easy smile as Victor's gaze darted to the doors.

"How about a dance?"

Dark eyes flicking between the nurse and exit, Victor remained mute. Dance? He never danced at this function. He never danced at _any _function. Glancing at the clock above the buffet table, he inwardly cringed. It was nearly ten. He never stayed this long. He should have taken heed to the voice that had told him to stay at home and skip this party. Change was overrated, and he really just wanted to leave.

"Just a short one?"

Staring down at the woman in front of him, Victor opened his mouth, prepared to quickly excuse himself and listen to the voice shouting at him to go home where he belonged and stop ignoring it. Yet before he could form the words, a tiny part of him spoke up, reminding him that he had already stayed out this late. Two more minutes wouldn't really do any harm. His dirty floors would still be waiting for him.

Besides, perhaps change could be all right every now and then. Where would Alexander Fleming without it?

_**x x x x **_

_**A/n:**_ Okay, honestly, the entire reason this piece was created was so I could use a 'Senior Surgeon' line. I'm that lame. XD And I actually support Tyler/Leslie, and I have no idea where this hinted Victor/Leslie stuff came from. It just... appeared. Now I kind of want to do an entire, epic Victor/Leslie fic. Haha!

But, yeah, as always, comments are love. The only characters I've dabbled with are Derek and Angie, so this is new territory for me. And I do hope you enjoyed, because I had a time whipping it up. Thanks for the read.

Oh, and if you don't know who Alexander Fleming is, shame on you. XP

- _L2G_


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